The Veteran in the Day
by cleverpunhere
Summary: What might happen if Brennan were to confuse her 'soldier for the truth' personality trait, and Booth's actual soldier status... on Veteran's Day.  Angsty leads to steamy leads to smutty leads to B&B.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: This is my second attempt at writing Bones Fic, and really only my first attempt at writing anything other than grad school applications in what seems like forever. This is definitely un-BETAed, so if you see any errors, please let me know. I really hope you all like this, as I intend it to be a multi-chapter fic, and I needed to post it tonight for reasons that make the most sense when you've finished reading it. Please let me know if you enjoy it (or if you don't), and help me out with anything I can do to make it more appealing to the masses of B&B lovers out there! Thank you!

**The Veteran in the Day**

Booth was quick to pull his comforter close to his ears after climbing into bed, half cursing the chilled November air, and half cursing his own laziness at not turning the heat on hours before. As he settled on his back, one arm behind his head and one arm rhythmically tapping his chest in time to an old Stones song, he glanced to the clock at his left.

Nestled between a framed picture of Parker on his third birthday, _the year he had purchased him the toddler sized police car with working lights and sirens, _and an empty Yuengling bottle, _which he should really toss before Parker's overnight on Saturday_, sat a strangely prized possession. Perched precariously atop Green Lantern's _Wizard of the Light-Wave Weapons_, a dog-eared paperback of daily Catholic readings and reflections, and a virtually untouched case study on the correlation between carnivores and reduced testicle size, _something he definitely needed to remove before Parker's visit_, sat a run of the mill digital alarm clock.

While anyone else might have replaced the dulling red numbers and ancient AM/FM dial with an IPOD docking stereo, Booth preferred the familiarity of the beat up timekeeper that had marked his time and passage through war torn countries. As the clock silently announced the remaining minutes before midnight, Booth let his mind conjure memories of which this clock had survived through as well. From Kuwait to Kosovo, from Somalia to Afghanistan, Booth had carefully wrapped the cheap timepiece, a gift Jared had given him before he left for bootcamp in hopes he would, "avoid a beat down for being late," the deeper truth between the brothers left unsaid.

Much like the ebb and flow of the tide, Booth thought back to the highest highs and lowest lows of his service, and respectfully thanked God for the safety he found fit to bestow upon him when so many others had given the ultimate sacrifice. With mere minutes remaining in the day, a day set aside to honor those with which he had served, Booth chose to honor himself as well. A prideful grin ghosted along his face as he allowed his eyes to close and his mind to clear, and as he relaxed himself to sleep with the gentle hum of "Under My Thumb", an insistent knock began at his door.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone that has reviewed this story so far, or added me on alert, or as a fave author... thank you! It means so much to know that this story has sparked at least a little bit of interest, and while we have a few more chapters to sift through before B&B get down to _business_, I hope the foreplay to the foreplay is stimulating enough!

**The Veteran in the Day **(chapter 2)

Heart palpitations arose from any number of conditions, anemia, pregnancy, hypoglycemia... Brennan was actually able to list close to twenty other reasons, _alphabetically and in Latin_, but she knew none of these were the cause of her irregular heartbeat.

To supplement her vegetarian diet and combat anemia, she avoided her previously preferred morning's orange juice, as the calcium blocked her iron absorption, and insisted upon a leafy green at every meal, _well, every meal she remembered._

Aside from Booth's frequent assertion to the truth in the myth of divine conception, Brennan was acutely aware that, save for scientific involvement, human reproduction required two partners in intimate contact, though, what had Angela assured her, _the more the happier_? As Brennan had refrained from satisfying her biological urges with a partner, and, instead, had engaged in independent exploration, she acknowledged that pregnancy was not a cause for concern either.

As she washed the remnants of lemon sorbet from her spoon, she ruled out hypoglycemia, and couldn't help but furrow her brow in both confusion and frustration.

The human body's responses to tangible stimuli, _spinach, sorbet, semen_, these were all things Brennan understood, yet she had no external explanation for her atypical heart rhythm. As a scientist, she reasoned that if there was no external stimulus present, that there might be an internal stimulus, and, though it bordered on the assumption that psychology was more than unsubstantiated theory, she began to catalog her body's symptoms. Definite heart palpitations, a slight tremor in her hands, and, despite the chill in the November air, she was perspiring. In combination with the headache she had brushed off until that very moment, and a cursory check for swollen glands that yielded no results, Brennan's mouth fell open.

Of course, this was anxiety. Any average member of the population, having felt these odd sensations at regular intervals throughout their lives, would have immediately identified their physiological state by comparing it to their compromised psychological state, _and that was all fine and handy,_ but Brennan was never anxious. She combated the stress others might feel from her fame and notoriety as the world's leading forensic anthropologist and being a _New York Times_ Best Selling Author, with daily yoga and thrice weekly sparring sessions at her local gym. Whether it was crawling into bed at night, or curling up on her office couch, Brennan always rested easily knowing science would find the truth in how the corpse on her platform came to it's end. _Science is truth, science is explainable_, and, in that, Brennan had always found comfort, but, on this particular night, science had convinced her that her mind was working irrationally, and this only disturbed her further.

After pouring herself a glass of wine with the conscious hope of calming her body, Brennan relaxed into her sofa to reflect on the possible antecedent to her current state of anxiety. Thinking back on her day, Brennan smiled to herself. The Jeffersonian had been empty due to the holiday, and with the silence provided to her, she had identified the remains of three veterans from WWI, taking breaks only to reply to Angela's repetitious text messages. Angela had begged her to _join the cabaret,_ and had repeatedly referred to her as a hybrid between a grapefruit and a pomelo, which she later assured her was nothing more than a term of endearment.

Brennan's day was highly productive, and she was suddenly extremely thankful for the government's insistence that today arbitrarily mark a holiday, as it kept the day's distractions to a minimum. Aside from Angela's brief interruptions, her day had been disruption free, an isolation she had cherished throughout her adult life, and one that she had sorely missed over the past seven years, _but was that entirely true? _

While, yes, the past seven years had been fraught with distractions from her publisher, it was her choice to enlighten the world on forensic anthropology through her articulate and _very_ well received novels. And, while he had come back into her life rather unexpectedly, it was _her_ who chose to reestablish and maintain a relationship with her father. Continuing, she realized she could not ignore the effective negotiating with, _or blackmailing of,_ a Federal Agent that had allowed her to participate in the very fieldwork that often came between her and her solitary existence in the first place.

A truth that she only understood after challenging herself to consider human emotion as a viable source of information... _Well_, Brennan thought, _that was unexpected._

Pleased with her accomplishment, but unsurprised as she was extremely intelligent, she could only think of one other person with which to share this news. _Booth would be proud, _she thought, after all, he was the purveyor of the heart. He would applaud her bravery at confronting her emotions head on, find her courageous for rising to the challenge by herself, and even compliment her integrity and commitment to analyzing the facts.

Knocking hastily on his door, it was almost midnight after all, Brennan couldn't help allowing a lopsided smile to grace her features as she realized she was a soldier for the truth.

**A/N **(part II): I hope you guys enjoyed Brennan's POV.. up next, an _encounter._ If you have a moment, tell me if you like how it's moving along. See you soon!


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